


You Don't Need Pity, but That's not What I'm Offering

by CMS521



Series: A Song of Dominance and Submission [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Crack Fic, Crack Treated Seriously, Dom Ned, Dom/sub, M/M, Sub Sandor, schwiftysquwad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-15 00:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11219280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMS521/pseuds/CMS521
Summary: There were few things that Ned liked about King's Landing, but he hated nothing more than mistreated subs.





	You Don't Need Pity, but That's not What I'm Offering

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [GOT Abridged #50: Eddard XIV, AGOT](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/300294) by Alt Schwift X. 



> Alt Schwift X came up with the pairing in their video, but I took it and ran with it

There were few things about King’s Landing that Ned liked, and even fewer inside the Red Keep. Ned preferred the simplicity of the North to the dishonesty of the royal court. It was not as if he did not know how to be the Hand of the King, but rather how much double meaning simple conversations could hold.

He first noticed something odd with Sandor Clegane when the Hound had been ordered to kill Lady and track down Mycah. Ned hadn’t thought much of it, given that Sandor was following orders. But when Sandor came back, he did not look pleased with himself, like Ned had expected. The hand maidens and hedge knights spoke of Sandor’s love of killing for the sport of it, riding down anyone that got in his way. They gave grueling accounts of entire families being killed because they were protecting the one Sandor had been sent to kill. Ned had hoped these stories were exaggerated, but that did not keep Ned from being surprised at Sandor’s tense expression.

Sandor dragged the body into the tent that the king and queen had set up, and Ned followed. When everyone had gathered, the king announced the death of the butcher’s boy, but Ned wasn’t paying attention to Robert. Ned looked at Sandor where he was presenting Mycah’s body to the king and queen. Ned could see he was waiting for something. Affirmation? Praise? Payment? He didn’t get anything from the king and queen, but when he went to stand by Joffrey’s side, Joffrey gave him a cursory smirk. Sandor relaxed.

Ned kept this observation in his mind while filing out of the tent. He would need to pay more attention to the Hound to make sure his assumption was correct.

* * *

Eventually Ned caught up with a lot of the court gossip surrounding all the important and influential people of King’s Landing, and that’s when Ned heard about Sandor. It was common knowledge that Sandor wasn’t knighted, and Sandor claimed that it was because he saw no honor in being a knight. Ned also hadn’t heard of any lord attempting to knight Sandor and Sandor’s refusal. This didn’t sit well with Ned especially when he recalled the law that kept subs from being knighted.

Ned kept a close eye on Sandor after that, mostly looking for signs of a well treated sub. Sandor did everything that was asked of him, especially orders from Joffrey. However, Ned found that for all the commands that Sandor fulfilled, he got little praise. This surprised Ned. It was common knowledge that subs required praise and affirmation in order to thrive. The king, or queen, or prince must know that Sandor was a sub; but if they did, why did they deny him the basic necessities of his dynamic. If they didn’t know he was a sub. . . Ned left that thought before he did something rash.

There was not much Ned could do for the treatment of Sandor, but one day in particular was frustrating. Sandor was sparring with Ned’s men in the yard, soundly trouncing all of them in one on one combat.

“Anyone else?” Sandor asked the group of Northerners standing around the fringes of the yard nursing bruises. Sandor looked up to the terrace that some of the court had gathered on. Joffrey was engrossed in antagonizing a fool. Sandor wouldn’t get any attention from him.

“Clegane,” Ned called him over as Sandor was stripping his armor, “you’ve made my men look like children. They will be nursing bruised bodies and egos tonight.”

“Yeah,” Sandor brushed off Ned’s attempt to converse as he did with most others, “should’ve trained them better.”

“I don’t believe that training was the source of their failure,” Ned pressed. “You are a good fighter, Sandor.” Sandor walked away without a word, but Ned thought he saw the stiffness from Sandor’s shoulders dissipate some. Ned vowed to give affirmation when he could. He would be busy with running the kingdom, or it would be inappropriate to give the praise, but Ned would make the effort when he could.

* * *

What started out with good intentions turned into something more without Ned realizing. Ned didn’t have much time to spare time, but when his thoughts wandered away from small council meetings, Ned found his thoughts in strange places. Ned was accustomed to wishing for Winterfell and its familiar halls or the godswood, but slowly, he found himself wondering about how good Sandor had been that day, dealing with Joffrey’s even increasingly violent instructions, or controlling a particularly rowdy crowd.

Ned had expected to be punished for his treasonous accusations, but he hadn’t expected Sandor to rescue him from execution.

There had been a flurry of arrows shot at the platform right before he had been sentenced to die, and the monster king Joffrey, the queen regent and other members of the court had run at the first sign of danger, fearful for their lives. Ned had expected Sandor to help the king flee, but instead Ned found Sandor gutting Ilyn Payne on his sword. Before Ned even try to open his mouth in protest, he was being rushed down the platform, and onto a horse. They rushed out of King’s Landing before anyone could stop them.

* * *

They were well on their way to Winterfell on the kingsroad when they heard the news. The traitor Eddard Stark had been found, relieved of his head, which was tarred and put on a spike on the Red Keep’s walls. Sandor and Ned’s pace slowed dramatically now that there was no fear of pursuit.

The price, however, for leaving so quickly and keeping a fast pace along the kingsroad was Ned’s leg. It had gotten more painful for Ned, and Ned found himself having issues staying on his horse.

“Sandor,” Ned started, “we need to stop for the night at the next inn.” Sandor looked over his shoulder to evaluate Ned’s pale face; Sandor nodded.

Sandor found them a small inn that hadn’t seen or heard of the Hound before, and got Ned situated in a room, where Ned promptly passed out for several days. Sandor had known that pushing Ned this much would cause problems, but better that than be caught on their way to Winterfell.

Sandor kept watch over Ned, ensuring that Ned had wine when he woke to help with the pain. Ned’s slurred thanks and small smiles helped Sandor relax, despite their vulnerable position.

* * *

They set off again on the kingsroad as soon as they could, hoping that their brief stay at the inn wouldn’t cause any problems further down the road.

“You’ve been eyeing me since we got out of the inn,” Sandor stated that evening while setting up camp. Ned looked over at him from where he was starting a fire. “Well, what is it? My face? My dynamic?”

“Eventually I had hoped to speak about your dynamic,” Ned responded. “But if you do not wish to discuss it, I will not press.”

Sandor waited until they were finishing their meal before broaching the topic again, “When did you realize?”

Ned looked up from his food. “I think I began to suspect when you killed Mycah, but the gossip in King’s Landing confirmed it.” Ned grimaced. “It was not obvious, but more that I noticed you were not being taken care of properly.”

Sandor gave Ned a sharp look. “What do you mean by that?” Sandor said angrily. “That I didn’t kneel next to an arrogant dom? That I didn’t let someone beat me in the courtyard for their amusement? I wouldn’t want to be taken care of properly.”

Ned raised his eyebrows. “I did not mean that. Your needs for affirmation and care were not being met.”

Sandor bolted to his feet and stomped over to Ned’s side of the fire, giving it a wide berth. “And you think you’re the person to give it to me.” His voice was rough, but Ned saw something almost pleading in Sandor’s eyes.

Carefully, so as to not upset Sandor more Ned motioned to the spot next to him. “Sit,” Ned said, not a command, giving Sandor a way out if he wanted.

Sandor hesitated a moment, but his knees seemed to make the decision for him, buckling so he was on the ground. Sandor still towered over Ned, but at least this way Sandor was sitting and Ned could do this properly.

“I will not make you do anything that you do not want, Sandor,” Ned began quietly once he thought Sandor had settled enough to be willing to listen to him. “What do you want, Sandor?”

Sandor was quiet for some time before speaking up softly. “Never had a dom before, at least not formal or anything. Wouldn’t know what to ask for.” Sandor kept his face hidden behind his hair. Ned carefully reached out and put his hand firmly on the back of Sandor’s neck. Ned had hoped it wouldn’t startle Sandor. Sandor slumped, relaxing from his rigid posture as Ned guided Sandor’s head into his lap, careful of the bad leg.

 

For now, a hand on the back of Sandor’s neck, maybe some light petting would suffice, before they had an actual conversation about what Sandor would want and what Ned would be willing to give.


End file.
